


Sugar and Spice and Everything Not-So-Nice

by silentexplorer18



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Baking, Baking fiasco, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Festive cooking, Married Couple, Originally Posted on Tumblr, pure fluff, super sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:41:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21957550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentexplorer18/pseuds/silentexplorer18
Summary: In the spirit of the holidays, Draco wants to bake you a little something special.  However, things don't entirely go to plan.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy / Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 75
Collections: 2019 Draco/Reader Secret Santa Fic Exchange





	Sugar and Spice and Everything Not-So-Nice

**Author's Note:**

> This is my fic for [@eltanin-malfoy‘s](https://eltanin-malfoy.tumblr.com/) 2019 Secret Santa Fic Exchange. It has been such a pleasure to take part in this exchange, and, hopefully, it will be the first of many more to come! I don’t know who my person is yet, but, to you, lovely person, wherever you are, I hope that you enjoy it! I don’t know if this is the direction you were intending the prompt to go, but I thought it was super fun to write. Merry Christmas! :) And a giant thank you to @eltanin-malfoy for allowing me to take part in this exchange!  
> Prompt: “Draco baking for the reader.”

Of all the things that Draco Malfoy had faced in life, the last thing he expected to battle was the kitchen. From facing his father’s scrutiny to tolerating Aunt Bellatrix’s zealous adoration of the Dark Lord to the fall of the Malfoy name and discovering the need to reassimilate himself - albeit quietly and somewhat awkwardly - into functioning normally after the war, nothing compared to the catastrophic events unfolding in his typically pristine kitchen. Baking was _not_ Draco’s forte.

He couldn’t fathom how you’d become quite so excellent at the craft he now discovered to be so ridiculously complex. Always relinquishing the cooking to you, the thought of it being particularly difficult had never crossed his mind. He’d always known you were a remarkably bright witch, so he hadn’t found it odd in the slightest that you brandished a wooden spoon as skillfully as you did a wand.

However, in the hours he’d recently spent coated in ingredients, Draco had realized he’d underestimated you. A lot.

Baking was _hard_.

Yet the bright wizard was not one to be defeated quite so easily.

Countless times he’d witnessed you in the kitchen, whizzing away across the wooden floors as you produced piles of lovingly made goodies. Those days, he’d always teased you about it, hostility ebbing into his voice as he reminded you that the Weasleys and Potters surely had their fair share of confectionery from the previous week’s escapades. The next morning, he’d be met with a cheeky remark as you bounded out the door, delicately wrapped parcels cradled to your chest.

He secretly adored your generosity. Although he would never admit to it, a few extra red tins would appear in the cupboard after you’d announce your recipe of the week. Even more would appear when you mentioned wanting to mail a package to Mrs. Weasley or Neville. Although the professor could procure ample treats at Hogwarts, nothing quite compared to your creations.

Yet today, on this chilly winter afternoon, the blond had decided he’d bake something for you. On occasion, you’d come home exhausted from work and desperately craving a pastry or cupcake but be too exhausted to put up with making a batch. Rather than bake something for you - cooking had never been a skill Draco had needed nor wanted to practice - he would cuddle you up and delight you with movies and back rubs until you fell into a peaceful slumber in his arms. Spending time with him was something you cherished, and even though sometimes you would’ve enjoyed a delicious treat from your husband, you never pushed him to bake for you. Couples certainly didn’t need to share _all_ their interests, after all.

Your persistence in the kitchen, arguing to use muggle cooking methods rather than leave it all up to magic, was something that both fascinated and exasperated Draco. In an attempt to make you proud, he was opting for the magicless route as well, a choice he now found to be messy and uncoordinated.

With an unamused groan, he scraped the newest batch of deformed cookies from the baking trays, staring in defeat at the items that littered the counters. Charred cookies and raw batter greeted him, blobs of flour smeared across the floor, and a set of poor formed cupcakes stared at him in utter disgust. How you were capable of whipping out madeleines and toffee, cookies and fudge, tarts and pretzels, along with the most glorious cakes, he’d never know.

Glancing at the clock, he knew you’d be coming back from the Weasley’s soon enough. The surprise was meant to be a plate of delectable goodies, not a haphazard kitchen in need of cleaning. With a wave of his wand, the mess began to disappear, bubbles foaming in the sink and water splashing across the dishware as his shameful first attempts were whisked from sight.

* * *

When you arrived home a short while later, the all too familiar sound of rustling parchment greeted you. Draco was perched in his favorite chair by the window, eyes casually skimming over the news. He seemed to glow, cast in the grey evening light with the upholstery, a color one could only describe as that of gillyweed, arching above his back and curving around his sides.

He glanced up from his reading as you rubbed the chill from your hands, wedding ring glinting ever so gently. That sight made him smirk, the way you cherished the delicate piece of silver, an emerald in the shape of a tiny dragon egg perched across your flesh. For a moment, his mind raced back to the day you stood before him at the altar, a mirage of elegance and perfection he could finally touch after the war. You were everything he’d ever hoped to find, filled with intelligence and wit and a level of affection he was scarcely accustomed to receiving.

“Have fun with Weazelbee?” he asked, lips curling into an expression a tad more mischievous. He knew you hated it when he teased the trio. They were civil now, more or less, kind yet cautious, and he knew you enjoyed their company.

Your lashes fluttered with the roll of your eyes. “ _Ronald_ is doing quite well. As is Hermione. However, their children are quite boisterous this holiday, I’m afraid.”

“Perhaps it was all the madeleines you’ve been taking them.” His comment was a tad wry, but you let it slide. Draco, though mocking in your approach to muggle cooking and baking, always assured you that your results were remarkable. You needn’t fear he disliked them.

“I wouldn’t think so. Hermione’s been hiding those for herself,” you smiled, slipping onto the couch comfortably. “Anything noteworthy?” Reaching behind you, your hand grasped for one of your favorite fuzzy blankets. With a sweet smile, you snuggled up with it as Draco scanned the paper.

“The latest quidditch scores are decent, not as good as previous years. A magizoologist is coming to London with a demonstration on proper care of common magical creatures that have been found in densely populated cities as of late.”

“Magical creatures? _Here_?”

He grimaced up at you. “Nifflers and such. But not around here,” he shuffled the papers. “They’ve been spotted in some business districts causing trouble. There’s been quite a lot of thefts in those jewelry stores near the Ministry.”

“Oh my,” your brow furrowed. “Is Pansy’s business okay?”

After the war, Pansy had obtained a small shop in lower London, resolving to spend her years as a vendor for second hand robes and pawned jewelry. However, as her business grew in popularity, she’d needed to move locations, finding a medium sized shop that would provide ample room for her jewelry counters and increased stock. Quite often, you’d pop by the building with a parcel of goodies she could offer her patrons. Truth be told, most got eaten before the both of you had even finished your teas.

“She owled earlier today,” Draco confirmed with a nonchalant wave to the small stack of mail. “It appears her shop is hectic from the season but doing well. She did encourage you to bring another box of chocolate eclairs, though.”

“Ah, yes. She does adore those,” you sighed. “I hope she can wait a few days,” you met your husband’s quizzical gaze, “I wanted to take Molly a Christmas pudding first.”

He nodded in understanding, eyes traveling back across the morphing photos and blaring holiday advertisements. “Speaking of,” you smiled, rising, “I’m going to start on that. She should be expecting me for tea tomorrow.”

Draco smirked at your stretching figure, adoring the way your fingertips danced through the air. Lashes fluttering and lips curling into the most beautiful of smiles, he couldn’t help the swell in his heart as he watched you recede into the kitchen.

Knowing you would be busy the next day, he reevaluated his plan.

* * *

While you were munching away at breakfast the next morning, Draco waltzed into the kitchen and pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. “I’ll see you later, darling. Have a nice time at tea.”

“Where are you going?” you asked, hand muffling your voice as you attempted to hide the food in your mouth.

“I’m just going to run some papers up to the Ministry. Possibly stop by Zabini’s and say hello.”

With a nod of understanding, you waved him off. “Have a nice day! I’m leaving in a bit, too.”

He vanished. The pop echoed through the air in his wake.

Draco spent all day in a muggle library reading information on baking. Although he usually wasn’t one to read in their libraries, muggles had cookbooks galore, and it was precisely the reading material Draco needed.

It seemed so simple on paper.

If only reading about it could solve his problems.

* * *

For three more days he tried his hardest to create a delectable creation to no avail. He was halfway to giving up entirely, but the thought of how radiant your smile would be when you came home to a plate of treats drew him to persisting. He just wanted to do something to make you happy, something to remind you that he cherished your love for cooking despite his tendency to jest.

Thinking he’d give it another shot, the blond set the ingredients on the counter, flipping through one of your many recipe books with a dismal face. Muttering the recipe aloud, his voice masked the gentle sound of the floorboards creaking as you came down the stairs.

You paused a moment, watching him with a curious gaze. He seemed frustrated, eyes scanning the various ingredients that you _definitely_ hadn’t left on the counter. Dropping a spatula, he gave an exasperated sigh. Pale hands rubbed against his tensed brow, down his tired face. “Why can’t it just _work_?”

“Draco, honey?” you called, stepping into the light. “What are you doing?”

He froze. Like a deer in headlights, he stared at you with the most alarmed of gazes, cheeks turning a violent shade of red under his fingertips. He’d thought you’d left already to visit Pansy. Through the distant rumble of the shower water, he was positive he’d heard you slam the door shut. Clearly his ears had heard wrong.

“Draco?” you prompted again, concern ebbing across your features.

“I just-” his voice caught, “I was, well, trying to bake something.” His voice seemed to ring loudly in the air, and he nearly cringed at the unsettling volume of it in the otherwise silent space.

You approached him cautiously, glancing toward the recipe book in confusion. “Trying to bake what?”

“Hallongrotta,” he mumbled.

Your brows arched. “Why? If you wanted some so badly, you could’ve just told me. I would have doubled the batch I made for Neville the other day.”

Sighing, Draco ran a hand through his hair. “They’re for you. I was trying to make them for you.” His voice lowered as his eyes left your face, dropping to the polished floor bashfully. “I remember how much you like them.” As if things couldn’t veer farther from the plan, his face continued to redden at the look of surprised delight that had washed over your features.

Your happiness seeped from your skin, dancing across the countertops and warming every corner of the kitchen in glowing joy. Draco was baking for _you!_ And trying to make it a surprise, no less! It was as if Merlin himself had smiled down upon you. “You’re making cookies for _me_?”

Your grin was contagious.

“I’ve been trying to for a few days,” he admitted sheepishly. “I can’t seem to get any of them right.”

“What’s been wrong with them?”

He chuckled, glancing back toward the simple yet disastrous ingredients beside him. “What _hasn’t_ been?”

Grasping his hand, you shot him a playful glance, smile adorning your cheeks. “Would you like my help?”

“I’d love it.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! You can also find me on [Tumblr](https://silentexplorer18.tumblr.com/)! Happy Holidays to those who celebrate! :)


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